


Notebook

by cecilantro



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-02 16:20:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14548614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecilantro/pseuds/cecilantro
Summary: There’s pages and pages of notes that Caleb has in the little lavender notebook of Mollymauk in his mind.





	Notebook

There’s pages and pages of notes that Caleb has in the little lavender notebook of  _ Mollymauk _ in his mind. Beau takes second place for her blue scrapbook, but she’s still miles behind Molly. He’s unguarded and open and there’s so much  _ inside him _ even though he’s only really been ‘alive’ for three years, per se.   
Page one.   
_ Obnoxious _ is scrawled at the top of the page, the title of Molly’s weird analysis, back when he first joined in their little band. Before they  _ became _ their little band. Yasha’s title was  _ reserved _ .   
There’s mental pictures of Molly’s necklace, annotations of  _ Bahamut _ and  _ Religiously Cleaned _ , because even through their travels, it’s something that Molly does constantly. There’s his coat and the embroidery, explanation of symbols and shapes and so many question marks.   
When Molly had  _ truly _ joined them, Caleb had turned the page.   
_ Nervous _ . Is the first note, and a brief paragraph, a perfect description of Caleb watching his hands as he twirled one of his scimitars around his fingers, the smile on his face suggesting showmanship but the tremble when one hand was free showed cracks in the facade.   
Molly’s hands shake when he’s afraid, when he’s nervous, edgy, it had a question mark by the observation at first but now there’s no doubt in Caleb’s mind. Like a leaf, Molly trembles and quakes and Caleb loves to watch the way that he switches in battle, terrified and trembling to fierce and determined and then back.   
He remembers that first observation, with the Gnolls this time, Molly spinning in and jumping, his scimitar cleaving down with his roar, striking hide armor and ringing out like a scream, Molly bounces away under Caleb’s watch and three-point lands with his scimitar still in his fist and when he looks up, for a split second, there’s a snarl. Caleb sees his hands shake and shoulders drop as he stands and there’s fear. It lasts a second, the fierce expression on Molly’s face falls away like a mask and he looks, for once, like a scared little boy facing a nightmare.   
And then his second scimitar comes up into a weak spot and the scream this time is from the Gnoll. The blade bites and slips between its ribs with a sickening crack, Molly twists and pulls and bends backwards like willow under the claw slashed his way for retaliation. Confidence again, the fear is gone, but Caleb knows that it will come back.

 

One of the more recent entries in the little lavender notebook is  _ beautiful singing voice _ . Caleb had worried at the phrasing for a while, but it isn’t as though the book is physical, nobody else needs to know the way that he looks at and experiences the things that Molly does.   
Molly sets his hand to the table beside Frumpkin and blinks, tilts his head away from that shoulder, and Frumpkin pauses only a moment to yawn before scampering up, digging his claws into Molly’s shoulder as they both right themselves and Frumpkin’s tail winds around the back of Molly’s neck.   
Caleb smiles, down the table toward him, even if he’s a little sad about the loss of his cat. He  _ did _ rub sausage grease into him only a few days prior, after all.   
Molly looks over to him and points at Frumpkin.   
_ Look!  _ He mouths,  _ He likes me! _   
Molly’s tail waves behind him, cat-like in excitement, and Caleb’s smile widens a little. It’s such a  _ Jester _ thing to do (that goes in the notebook) and Molly doesn’t seem to quite comprehend that Frumpkin isn’t a normal cat. He and Caleb are linked, mentally, they share many of the same desires. Sure, Frumpkin may enjoy fish a fair sight more than Caleb does, but there’s one thing that Caleb passes from himself to the cat.   
The desire to be close to Molly.   
Frumpkin purrs and rubs his head to Molly’s horn, the gentle tinkle of jewellery, Molly scratches gently at Frumpkin’s head.   
Caleb lets his fall, so that his eyes are hidden, he looks as though he’s reading and he blinks out of his own senses, into Frumpkin’s.   
Molly is murmuring to the cat quietly, and it takes a moment of adjustment before Caleb can hear him.   
_ “...sure Caleb would love to have you back, wouldn’t he? Oh, aren’t you just wonderful?” _ __  
Molly’s fingers are under Frumpkin’s chin.   
_ “You know, Frumpkin, I feel just  _ awful _ taking your attention away from Caleb, but, ah.” _ Molly turns a little, Frumpkin’s eyes catch the edge of an almost  _ sad _ smile.   
_ “It isn’t as though Caleb will sit with me. I’m glad that you will.” _   
Caleb blinks out of Frumpkin’s senses in surprise.   
Molly’s head turns to him quickly as he sits up a little straighter, and Caleb lifts his head to meet Molly’s eyes. A few still moments pass, Jester and Beau are arguing animatedly about whether candy or caramel is better to the side of them, Molly and Caleb are separate from the others altogether.   
_ You heard. _ Molly mouths at last, and Caleb just… blinks. And stands, and moves around the table to sit beside Molly, pulling up a seat from the table behind them and squishing between Molly and Beau.   
Beau stops, midway through a sentence, and turns as though scorned.   
“What the fuck are you doing?”   
“Sitting.” Caleb answers in a deadpan, expression flat, “Have I done something wrong?”   
She squints at him for a second.   
“‘M watchin’ you, Widogast.” She tells him, and turns back, picking up her sentence exactly where she left off.   
Frumpkin leaps lightly from Molly’s shoulder and moves to the space between them, Caleb reaches out to scratch gently at the cat’s head.   
“You were listening.”   
Molly’s voice is soft, just loud enough for Caleb to hear, and Caleb smiles a little.   
“Did you ever consider,” he says, carefully, “That I may share the same sentiment?”   
Molly blinks. And again. Silent and considering and thinking.   
“Is that purely about  _ sitting with me _ , Caleb?”   
Caleb hums to fill the time, shocked at his heart rate and the way that his head feels nothing like solid.    
“You know that it is not.”   
Molly lets out a breath.    
“Good. Well. I can’t believe that we just used a  __ cat to confess our love to one another.” and follows with the softest chuckle, Caleb joins him, settles his hand over Molly’s on the table.

 

Later that evening, Caleb gets to begin his page of notes on the way that Mollymauk kisses him.   
Soft, at first, and warm, Molly is always warm to him. The taste of floral on the edge of alcohol, and an odd sweetness that doesn’t come from anything that Molly has been drinking, but from Molly himself.   
There’s scrawls of unreadable notes on the way Molly’s fingers feel in his hair, at the tug when he tightens his grip in desperation, the sensation of danger at the graze of Molly’s sharp, tiefling teeth at his neck.   
There’s a clearer page, too. The page on the first time Caleb sees Molly cry, the way that Molly’s hands tighten into fists in his hair and tug strands loose. The way that Molly unfurls, like an untied knot, slumps into Caleb’s arms and Caleb’s kiss, the heat he gives off from his skin when Caleb’s hands run across it.   
Molly is hovering over him in bed, Caleb’s hand rest on his hips and both of their breathing is shallow. Molly sucks in a deep breath to speak,   
“Do you sing, Caleb?”   
It’s an odd, out-of-place question, and Caleb is caught off-guard.   
“I- I- I used to, not, not well. It is more to fill the silence, I am not like you.”   
Molly huffs and rolls to lie beside Caleb in bed, laces their fingers together.   
“One day, I will get you to prove that to me.” There’s a smirk, “But not tonight.”   
“Thank you.” Caleb turns to his side, and cuddles his way up to Molly, “Mollymauk?”   
“Hm?” Molly turns his head to look at him, and Caleb kisses him, gently.   
“I love you.”   
Molly chuckles warmly.   
“I should hope so.” He says, jests, and kisses the tip of Caleb’s nose. “I love you too.”


End file.
